The Forest is Burning
by Shade Ombre
Summary: "There is a fire burning. A forest fire that is growing. It will soon hit this town, and life will never be the same again." When a new spree of violent killings strike at the heart of the town of Happy Tree, nothing is as it seems. Murderers become heroes, the innocent are left broken, and the whole town is at risk. Lives will be lost, and no one is safe from the fire.


Chapter one: I regret nothing, for I am nothing.

"Brahms is alright but, personally, I prefer Liszt. What do you say, _Herr _Toothy?"

Toothy groaned slightly, just waking up. His head pounded as if there was a jackhammer in it, and the world was fuzzy before his eyes. Classical music filled the room, with the only other noise being the _click-clack _of typewriter keys off to his right. He was only just aware that a voice had just said something to him; although what it was he couldn't tell. He could smell a strange mixture of cigarette smoke and blood, making his retch slightly. He groaned again, trying to ignore the blood smell, and his vision began to make solid objects out of the coloured masses before his eyes.

He was in a dark, dingy room, with the paint on the walls peeling and the old wooden floor boards were covered with a dark red stain. A bright light above him made the immediate area around him visible, but it seemed to make the rest of the room even darker. Off to his left, he was aware of a faint orange glow, which he imagined to be the dying embers of a fire. Full of confusion, Toothy suddenly realised that he was in a chair. He had no memory of how he had got there. Last thing he remembers was that he was walking down the street, going home after a long day messing around with his best friends Cuddles, Handy and Nutty. It had been a fun day, a day in which he could forget all the troubles that the town has about it. It made him forget about the fact that death surrounds the town. It allowed him to forget about the murders…

He stopped trying to remember what happened after that, because it all became a strange and painful blur of nothing. It was then he realised that his wrists were bound painfully to the arms of the chair, and his ankles were tied to the legs of it as well. Panic began to rise in him as he struggled, only to have the ropes cut into his wrists, bringing slight tears to his eyes. Soon he realised that he wouldn't be getting out of his bonds anytime soon, so he just resigned himself to trying to figure out where he was, and who had taken him captive.

The classical music was still playing, and he saw the source of it – an old record player was in the corner of the room, its shape just visible due to the light. He couldn't tell what exactly it was playing, just that it was classical, and had shrill violin strings in it. It made his already pounding head hurt even more, and while he was wishing it would stop, he became aware of the clicking of typewriter keys. Panic filled him again.

He was not alone.

He turned his head towards it, and saw a desk with a typewriter on it, and papers strewn all around all across it. An unlabelled can was stood at the edge of the desk, currently acting as an improvised paper weight. A few other things laid on the desk, ranging from a glass bottle, filled with a clear liquid, to a knife imbedded up right, holding papers to the desk, to things that Toothy couldn't actually make out. But what scared him the most was the man sat in front of it, typing and checking over what he had previously typed with only a fraction of interest.

The man looked young, possibly in his mid to late 20's, with a kind face and a soft smile gracing his pale thin lips. His hair was black and white, with parts of his fringe falling over dark, cold, aquamarine eyes. A small scar on his cheek mired his handsome face, and the rest of his lithe form was graced by a coal black suit, with a scarlet red tie completing the look he had. Toothy knew him. Oh boy, did he know him.

His name is Shade Monch Ombre. A new comer to the town. A well educate Swiss man who was a therapist, businessman, murderer and torturer. He was not a man to cross, and seeing that it was he that had him made Toothy panic even more, and to struggle against his bindings once more in a bid to escape, but to no avail.

Shade noticed his struggling, and his panicked breathing that signified that his quarry was now awake. Glancing up from the old typewriter in front of him, he addressed Toothy.

"Well, I'm glad to see that you're awake, _Herr _Toothy. I was worried that I had overdone it with the sedatives...So, how are you feeling? Well, I presume?"

Toothy stopped struggling, and looked at the Swiss man, who had now got up from his chair and was walking over to him. He tried to calm himself, not wanting to appear weak in front of the man who was his captor. Shade sighed when Toothy didn't answer.

"Well, Toothy. I hope you will be more helpful when I start asking you questions, _Ja? _It would be a real shame if...certain things happened to you and I still haven't got the...information I need, wouldn't it? So, will you co-operate with me?"

Toothy felt that ever present panic start to rise to greater levels as he imagined what Shade would do to him. Shade was cruel, twisted and downright evil, so nothing was ever truly beneath him. Toothy looked down at the ground, and replied, his voice shaky and right on the verge of breaking down into sobs of fear and panic.

"I-I'll try m-Mr. Shade, s-sir. W-What do you...you want from m-me?"

"Firstly, I want you to tell me something extremely important. Your life depends upon it."

"O-Okay...I'll try..."

"You won't try. You **will **tell me."

"O-Okay..." Toothy was crying now. Shade just rolled his eyes at the sobbing mess in front of him.

_Jesus...If he's bawling his eyes out right now, what will he be like when I actually start to...apply harsher methods...heh heh..._

A cruel smile graced Shades lips again, as he reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, and pulled out a small, silver plated cigarette case. He proceeded to draw out a cigarette, before closing the case and replacing it back into the pocket. He lit it from a lighter, which he picked up off the desk. Placing it in his mouth, he spoke to Toothy again; his voice slightly softer than it was before.

"Tell me, Toothy. Who is the killer that they call 'Vincent'?"

Toothy just looked at him blankly, as if Shade had just spoken to him in his native German tongue. He just shook his head sorrowfully and said weakly and quietly;

"I don't know..." but, no sooner had he said those three, little words, Shade's fist made contact with his jaw.

"That is not the answer I wanted to here, _Herr _Toothy. Now, how about you reconsider your answer, before I am forced to take more drastic actions, hmm?"

Toothy just stayed still, sobbing quietly as the pain in his jaw told him that a good sized bruise would be left there. Shade stood over him, waiting for Toothy to talk.

He waited. And waited. For five minutes he waited, with Toothy' sobs racking his breathing, and a word not being said between them. Shade sighed, and lifted Toothy face up to look at him. He didn't care what Toothy was feeling, he didn't care that a bruise was already beginning to form across his lower jaw. He just wanted answers, and he was going to do anything to get them.

He spoke, his voice becoming harsher and sharper, his words laced with spite and cruelty. "Toothy. I will ask you once more: Who is the killer known only as 'Vincent'? The one responsible for the murders of fourteen citizens and the forceful kidnapping of three children. It would be in your best interest to tell me anything that you possibly know, alright? I promise I won't harm you if you tell me."

Toothy spoke as he continued to sob, his words becoming more broken, but he was still quiet, just barely above a whisper.

"I d-d-don't know...I-I'm s-sorry...I-I-I'm s-so sorry..." he trailed off. Shade just stood and looked at him, as if unsure of how to proceed with the mess before him. Then an idea struck him, and that cruel smile returned to his face again. He sighed, in a faux sense of resignation, and turned away, walking back towards the desk that he had previously occupied. He ran his soft hands over the objects that laid across it, before picking something up. Toothy turned to look at him, his vision blurry due to the tears that ran down his face. He wanted to go home. He didn't want this, he didn't know anything important.

"W-What are y-you goin' to d-do?" he struggled to say, as Shade glanced at him over his shoulder. Shade just smiled, before holding up what he had just picked up – brass knuckles. Toothy' voice was caught in his throat, and he cried even more and struggled against the chair he was tied to.

Shade just walked over to him, positioning himself so that he was directly in front of his victim. Grabbing Toothy by the collar of his purple tee-shirt, he swung with the heavy brass knuckles at the young man's face. The moment the cold metal made contact with his face, Toothy yelped, already tasting the metallic flavour of his own blood. Shade swung again, and again. All too soon, he stopped, released the collar, and stepped back to examine his handy work.

Toothy' breathing was ragged, his eyes averted to the floor. A thin trickle of blood was at the corner of his mouth, and his nose was defiantly broken and bloody. He couldn't see properly out of his left eye, he felt a warm feeling above his eye from a cut caused by the brass knuckles. He was still crying, but now, he had determination. He wanted to know why.

Shade had already walked away, going towards the desk again, and began to prize the knife out of the wood. Turning his head slightly to him, Toothy asked;

"Why?"

Shade turned at the sound of the voice, add looked at the beaten man with a slight of confusion. "What?"

"Why are you doing this? To me? Why would I know anything about 'Vincent'?"

Shade just looked at him, the knife – revealed to be a run of the mill kitchen knife – held loosely in his right hand. A smile graced his face out of the confusion, and he spoke in a soft, kind tone, which stung Toothy more than the harsh voice he had on earlier.

"My dear, dear Toothy. You don't understand. I chose you specifically, because of your association with the one called Cuddles."

"What the fuck has that to do with anything? It doesn't answer my question, you bastard. Why the fuck are you doing this to me?" Toothy' voice began to rise, till by the end he was shouting at his captor. Shade stood, shocked at this sudden change_._

_From crying his eyes out to shouting the place down? Maybe this would be interesting for me after all..._

Shade's smile grew, and continued with what he was saying, finding the anger of Toothy to be most amusing. "Cuddles knows everyone with in this town in the boondocks. He would know who 'Vincent' is, and he would tell you, his best friend, _Ja_?" Toothy looked at him, as if he was dealing with an idiot.

"Then why the fuck didn't you fucking take him you fucking bastard? You just fucking said he had all the answers! Why? Just because you believe he would tell me if he knew?"

"Because, people would miss Cuddles a lot more that they are going to miss you, Toothy. And besides, I believe that you would be much more fun to play with than that sport obsessed little prick, don't you?"

No reply was got from the angered man that he now stood before, so he continued.

"I believe you're a cultured man, so who do you prefer? Brahms or Liszt? I prefer Liszt, personally." He said, examining his reflection in the blade. He waited for a reply as he adjusted his hair slightly, putting some of it behind his ears.

"I would prefer you to go to fucking hell." Toothy growled, before spitting the blood in his mouth at Shade.

Shade jumped back, as if Toothy had just thrown acid at him. He panicked, checking his suit to make sure that the blood hadn't actually landed on him, dropping the knife in the process. Toothy looked at him, a small smile started to grow slowly on his battered and bruised face. However, Shade looked at him like he would kill him right there and then.

"Don't you fucking dare think about doing that again! And don't you dare get blood on my Armani suit you..." he didn't finish his sentence before he had kicked over the chair Toothy tied to, and was kicking him in the chest sharply and repeatedly. Toothy kept crying out in pain, new tears forming to replace the old ones. After a few minutes, Shade stopped, and stepped back towards the knife.

"Great...now you've got fucking blood on my Gucci shoes...$700 fucking dollars as well..." he turned, still full of anger and hatred, knife in hand. With his other hand, he removed the cigarette from his mouth, and crouched down before Toothy. He looked at him; almost sadly, as he had hoped that it wouldn't have gone this way. If only Toothy had stayed the type to cry his eyes out, rather than try to fight back. Shade sighed. He would have his fun, but not in the way he expected.

"You know, Toothy. You are damn lucky that you didn't get any blood on my suit. Do you know why?"

Toothy just groaned, and continued to cry with pain. Shade continued, his voice was a whisper that made what he said sound confidential, and important.

"This...is an Armani suit, you see? I paid nearly two thousand dollars for this, and…well, I wouldn't want it ruined by a little fucking prick like you. I mean, you can't even afford to look at something like this, let alone buy it, can you?"

"I-I could if I-I...wanted t-to" came the reply, accompanied by the coughing up of blood and the tears that never ceased to end. Shade looked at him with an amused smile on his face, and a small laugh escaped the back of his throat.

"What? On your ten dollars an hour job? So what? Are you going to save your money to buy a suit and forgo things like food and that? That is amusing _Herr_ Toothy, really, it is!" he continued, gesturing at him with the cigarette in hand.

And then he brought the lit cigarette down on Toothy' cheek.

Toothy screwed his eyes shut with the pain, holding back the urge to scream at Shade. He felt the heat, and the pain but, no soon had it started, it had finished. Shade stood up, cigarette still in hand, and walked back over towards the desk, leaving Toothy without so much as a word. Opening his eyes, Toothy just continued to lie there, unable to do anything else, unable to see the desk and his evil tormentor. His mind was racing, wondering what Shade was planning, what he was getting to torture him with, and how he was going to finally kill him, if he would kill him. The thought of Shade just letting him back on the streets, broken and disfigured scared him the most. He hoped that Shade would end it all for him, sooner, rather than later.

Shade stood, leaning over the desk, looking to see what he could use on his new plaything now. Sure, he had angered him, and sure, he was now going to make this the single most painful experience in Toothy short lived life, But, he had a fondness for the man. He wasn't an overbearing character, not one with any notable quirks that annoyed or infuriated the Swiss man. He was just Toothy. And he liked him like that. Not too noticeable, yet not a generic cardboard cut-out like some people he knew. But, thinking about it, he now felt bad that he was torturing Toothy. The man had never done anything to him personally, and he probably didn't have the information anyway.

_Should I let him go? It's not too late after all...He'll never forgive you, but at least he'll live. I can have some small sense compassion, and still have got my fun in. I'm not entirely heartless after all…_

But then Shade remembered.

_Why should I let him go? He's too fucking good not to torture more! Besides, I probably won't get another as fun as him in a while, so I may as well continue. Besides, he'll be too dead to forgive you….I should have fun with this. I mean, this could all lead to my…No, I think about that later. Now for wanton violence and torture._

He looked at the items before him, musing on what to use, before remembering something. With a large smile snaking its way across his face, he walked behind the desk, to where he was sat before. Soon, he had opened the drawers under the desk, rummaging around for something, muttering various comments as he removed and replaced various objects, none of them suiting the idea that he had in his mind.

Toothy continued to sob as Shade went about this and, although he still couldn't see him, he heard every single one of the comments the black and white haired man made. He decided to close his eyes, and wish that this would all just be a dream. A cruel, sick dream of a diseased mind. He continued to hope; until he heard the clicking footsteps of Shade approach him again. But, instead of stopping in front of him to continue the torture, he just walked on by, before stopping. For a few minutes, while Shade started setting up whatever he had planned, the only noise in the room was the haunting music coming from the record player, and Toothy' own quiet crying.

Soon, the footsteps were heard again, this time not passing Toothy' limited field of vision, but instead stopping directly behind his fallen position. Panic began to rear itself again with in Toothy, until he felt himself moving. He was being righted. Giving a little yelp at the sudden movement, he franticly tried looking around to see if he find his captor. A cruel, soft laugh came from the man stood behind him, before patting Toothy' shoulder.

"Don't you worry, Toothy. I'm here for you." He laughed again, and dragged the chair – and the man – towards where he was stood a few minutes before.

Toothy found himself looking at the glowing embers of a fire. He was confused at exactly what Shade had planned, and looked at the man, who was now leaning against the mantelpiece of the fireplace for answers, even though he dreaded what it would be. Shade began to talk, his voice sounding surprisingly sad, and regretful.

"I know that you, Toothy, must think me a monster. An evil bastard who is doing this for fun and to satisfy his own amusement. Truth be told Toothy, I don't care what you think of me. I've heard it all before, and I'll hear it all again before my mortal life is over. But, I want you to know something."

"W-What?" Toothy was even more confused now. What has Shade got planned? Why does he suddenly sound like he's sorry for torturing him? These questions ran through his mind, until Shade's voice halted them.

"I didn't set out this morning with the goal of torturing you to death. I was just going to interrogate you, then set you out on your merry way. You may not buy it, but I'm sorry."

Toothy just sat, looking incredulously at his tormentor. He felt anger filling him at Shade's words, and he couldn't take it anymore.

"You're not sorry! You're not sorry at all, you bastard!" He yelled at Shade, who just continued to look into the embers of the fire. Toothy continued, still yelling; "You call that interrogating? What sort of fucked up idea of interrogating is going through your sick, twisted mind? And you're right; I don't by the fact that you're fucking sorry! Not a single bit! You are literally scum; the worst type of person to ever walk on this fucking planet!" His yelling was silenced by a strong punch from Shade, straight into his stomach, knocking the air, and the fight, from him.

"Very well, Toothy. I tried to apologize. You can't say I didn't try. But, you are wrong. I am a lot better than most of the people that call this town home. You, of all people, should know that. I generally let you lot go about your day to day business. I don't interrupt your various concerns. I don't even murder and torture people that often. So, yes, I am a lot better than most of the degenerates in this pathetic American town. But I can also be a lot worse. I have been a hell of a lot worse. I worked for the Tigers during the W.A.R; I was there when they razed Nanjing to the ground. I dealt with dissenters and traitors and all sorts through out it. I've seen whole cities and nations been reduced to ash by the Tigers from a front row seat, and I relished in it. I saw the fall of heroes, and the very creations of hell being let loose on the battlefield. The stuff that I've done to you, and are going to do to you, why, they are nothing more than kind, compare to the things I've done before."

Toothy looked at the man, whose face was just centimetres away from his own. He looked deep into Shade's eyes, looking for any sign of mercy, of pity, of anything. But there was nothing. No mercy was found. Pity was long gone. Looking into his eyes, Toothy wondered if Shade even had any hope left, or anything left of his broken humanity.

Shade spoke again, his voice deathly quiet and hushed.

"Remember this, Toothy. There is a fire burning. A forest fire that is growing. It will soon hit this town, and life will never be the same again. It started with the Tigers. It will end with either them, or this town being turned to ash. There is a fire burning, bright orange flames licking at the houses, consuming the mind. Be warned Toothy. When you come back from…all of this, what with the…idols and that curse…remember about the fire. Because it is coming for you, Cuddles, Nutty…everybody in this wretched town."

He turned his head away from Toothy, sucking air through his teeth. He continued;

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But…it is necessary." And with that, he stood up, and walked back over towards the fireplace. Toothy was deathly quiet, unable to comprehend the warning that Shade gave him, unable to imagine what he meant by a 'fire'. He just sat there, unable to do anything but watch the man before take a fire poker from beside the fire, and heat it with in the hot embers.

Shade turned his head, slightly, a sad smile on his face. He left the poker to heat up in the fire, before walking away to get something from behind Toothy. Toothy just continued to stare into the glowing embers, before closing his eyes in resignation. He knew that he would soon die.

And he was willing to embrace it.


End file.
